


Marked Man

by hayj



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Good ship Charloe, Masturbation, Topsy Turvy Challenge, maybe? - Freeform, overused tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayj/pseuds/hayj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What I’m saying Charlotte is that you don’t want to be married to me and I have no business being married to you. What you do is none of my business. As far as I’m concerned this” he continues on swinging his finger back and forth between the two of them, “never happened.”  </p><p>She dismisses his concern a smile, “Not to worry, Bass. Plenty of young men in the area who’ll trip all over themselves to do some handy work for the town’s newest divorcee.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first story I wrote for the topsy turvy challenge was becoming a bit too Lolita/Coquettish for me. Starting all over, I ended up with a confused Bass, highly amused Connor and Miles, and a teasing, cock-blocking Charlie. I'm not entirely sure that this story, 1. makes any sense to anyone other than me, or, 2. still meets the criteria but I'm sure someone will let me know. And, yes, I have way over-used this trope, but damn, it's a fun one.

“Well, hells bells, Monroe, I can’t grant you a divorce or an annulment from that fine, little filly you managed to get yourself hitched to. Now, just how did that happen again? Blanchard asks lowering his voice as he leans forward on his desk.

“It doesn't matter how. You’re the President of Texas, why can’t you grant one?”

“You weren't married in Texas, Son,” the older man drawls like that explains everything as he picks up a lit candle to light his cigar.

Bass exhales loudly through his nose as he runs a hand over the lower part of his face.

“If you had been, I’d sign off on it, but that’s out of my jurisdiction. And, as far as I know the Georgia Federation no longer has a working government, so…looks like you’re hitched for the duration, or until the laws change.”

“Great.” Bass mutters storming out of Blanchard’s tent. He’d come straight here, leaving Charlie and Miles to write out the reports before they headed back home to Willoughby. 

How the actual fuck was this his life right now? Yeah, he liked Charlie, they worked damn well together, and he certainly wouldn't lie about the fact that he found her damn attractive, but up until two weeks ago that was it. Now he was married and couldn't get the God-damned President of Texas to give him a divorce from a girl half his age, which he had no business being married too.

On the plus side, Miles wasn’t going to kill him or he would have already and Charlie hadn't attempted to kill him in his sleep yet. Actually, she’d barely spoken to him since they’d said their "I do’s" at the business end of a shotgun.

Walking into the tent where he’d left uncle and niece, he cleared his throat getting their attention. He swore for a split second he saw a twinkle in Miles eye.

He jerked his head towards the tent flap, “Charlie, could I speak to you for a minute?” 

Miles watches as she licks her lips before pushing her paper and pencil away.

Standing, she wipes her hands on her pants before following Bass’ leather clad shoulders out of the tent.

He leads her away from the tents to a spot where they won’t be overheard.

Charlie takes a few deep breaths before planting her feet and crossing her arms. “Just spit it out, Bass. It can’t be good or you would have said something in front of Miles.”

“Blanchard can’t grant us an annulment or divorce.”

“What? Why not?”  She asks her forehead crinkling as she drops her arms. “He’s the President of Texas.”

Bass bobbed his head up and down and to the side for a moment agreeing with her.

“Exactly. He’s the President of Texas not the President of the Georgia Federation.”

Charlie opens her mouth to say something before snapping it shut.

“And therein lays our problem.”  Bass says kicking at the bottom of the tree they’re standing next to.

 “So we’re really married? You and me? To each other?”

“Yeah, Charlotte, you’re even wearing the rings.”

Flustered, she shoves her hands in her jacket pockets and looks out over his shoulder, her lips sealed in a mutinous line.

He wonders briefly what would happen if she were to let go of this new-found self-control that she wears as a shield.

“I just wanted to let you know not to worry about it. It doesn't mean anything.” 

That gets her attention.

Her eyes immediately find his.  “What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying Charlotte is that you don’t want to be married to me and I have no business being married to you. What you do is none of my business. As far as I’m concerned this” he continues on swinging his finger back and forth between the two of them, “never happened.”  

Charlie’s back stiffens as she walks away from him and heads back towards the tent they’d just come from. How stupid was she for thinking that their marriage might actually mean something to him.

She has a few more things to add to her report and then they’ll be heading home. Home, back to her grandfather’s where she can watch her mother and Miles make goo-goo eyes at each other while she tries to figure out how to not be married, while still being married.

Miles watches as she storms in the tent, Bass following slowly behind her.

“So?” Miles asks the two of them.

“It’s over,” she replies flatly, sitting back down like she doesn't have a care in the world. “So, there’s no need in getting mom’s panties ruffled over nothing. I’m sure you can handle that all on your own.”

Bass makes a choking noise near the entrance as Miles turns three shades of pink, reaching into his jacket pocket, sliding a piece of paper across the desk towards her. She meets Bass’ eyes and makes of show of slipping off her rings, before gathering it all up and dumping it into her pack.

She turns her attention back to the unfinished report on the table. “Let me just finish this up and we can go.”

Miles grunts, getting up and heading outside to drop his report off with the Duty Sergeant.

Bass remains at the door watching her.

“Was there something else you needed, Monroe?’ she questions not looking away from the paper in front of her, trying to determine where she had stopped.

“I just don’t want to see this mess with our working relationship, Charlotte. We make a damn good team.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Sebastian. Now if you don’t mind?” she says dismissing him as she puts pencil to paper, completely ignoring his presence.

His back teeth grind together as she treats him the way she did back in their swimming pool days. Hopefully some time and distance from the situation will ease things between them.

* * *

 

Riding into Willoughby, she ignores the men and heads straight to the bar.

By the time they come dragging in, a cloud of road dust hanging around them, she’s already purchased a bottle and is heading back out the door. Miles total look of confusion would be adorable any other time.

“I’ll see you later, Miles. Don’t worry if I don’t make it home tonight.”

He turns towards Bass as they watch her long strides eat up the floor. “Huh?”

“Charlotte!” Bass growls lowly.

She simply snarls back, barreling her way out the swinging doors.

“What the hell was that?” Miles asks looking to Bass who shrugs with a scowl and heads to bar to order a drink. “She’s been acting weird ever since Blanchard signed off on your “divorce.”

“What do you want from me, Miles?” Bass asks swallowing his drink and slamming his glass down on the counter.

“I don’t know. Did the two of you ever talk about what happened?”

“And when would have liked for us to do that Miles? When you were making sure your bedroll was between ours or keeping her to yourself the entire way home?”  Bass snapped.  “Divorce is hard on everybody. Just give her some space,” he mutters into his fresh drink earning a snort from Miles.

“Hard on whom? The kids? I’m sure Connor’ll be real broken up about it.”

“You’re an asshole, Miles,” Bass snaps, dropping a diamond on the bar before walking out.

* * *

 

Dropping his shit off, Bass grabs an empty pack stuffing it with clean clothes and a bar of soap before stomping out his back door heading towards the “washing hole” as the locals call it.

He’s ventured out towards the middle of the springs, swimming laps to burn off some excess energy, when he sees her at the other end looking like a mermaid perched up on a rock in the dying light with her back to him.

Swimming closer he watches as she takes a sip from the bottle she purchased at the bar and then forces it up through her lips in a stream like a living breathing fountain.

“Charlie?” 

“Oh, hey honey,” she mocks pleasantly buzzed as she enjoys the last few minutes of daylight.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Same as you, I’d imagine. Washing the radiated remains of the Federation off me and rinsing out my unmentionables,” she snorts holding up her bra and panties for him to see.

“You’re drunk, Charlie, You should go home and sleep it off.”

She cackles at the suggestion. “Not just no, but hell no. It’s one thing to know that the parental figures in your life have sex, it’s something else entirely to hear them.”

She leans back on the rock, her long hair flowing behind her as her breasts are proudly on display.

“So where are you planning on sleeping?”

“That would be none of your goddamn business.”

He chuckles, giving her a look that is pure Monroe as he begins to backstroke away.

“Have a nice evening. Charlotte.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she sing songs spurting more liquor up in a way that has it splashing against her breasts.

Flipping over, Bass makes good time back to his spot grabbing his bar of soap to finish his bath and head home.

He can faintly see Charlotte from where he stands and she appears to be doing the same, lathering up her hair before dunking down to rinse it, flipping it back over her head when she’s done, head tilted back and face pointed towards the gleaming twilight.

He turns his back and finishes within seconds, standing on the bank drying himself so that he can head back home. It really isn't any of his business what she does. But for some reason it sure feels like it should be.

* * *

 

Bass appears at the Matheson/Porter house early the next morning with some bullshit excuse and settles at the table when he’s invited for breakfast. “Charlie out hunting?” he asks innocently enough.

Miles twists the coffee cup in his hand. “Never came home last night. You didn't see her after we left the bar did you?”

“Nope, sure didn't.” he lies through his teeth suddenly panicked that something may have happened to her at the spring. “You know, I just remembered that I've got a few things to take care of in town. I’ll see you later Miles,” he says quickly pushing away from the table.

* * *

He finds no trace of her at the spring, no evidence that she spent the night or died a horrible death by drowning. He can’t even find a track to follow and begins to suspect that she  wasn't  as drunk as she wanted him to believe.

Calmer now, he makes his way to town, checking in on her favorite haunts before finally stopping in the sheriff’s office to ask Hank if he’d seen her.

“As a matter of fact, she was here waiting for me to open up this morning. Wanted to take a look at the list of available houses in the area. Said Gene’s house was getting a bit crowded and it was time to find her own place.”

“And you just let her?”

“Now, Bass, you know as well as I do that as long as she pays a years’ worth of taxes on it, it’s hers’ free and clear as long as she wants it.

“Can I see the list?” Bass asks holding his hand out taking the paper that Hank hands him. Quickly skimming the list, he doesn't worry about the taxes because he honestly has no idea how much currency she has and focuses solely on location.

A place that’s defendable, has plenty of room for a garden, a short walk to town and somewhere you can get to in any direction without going past Gene’s place. He narrows it down to about six different properties in a matter of minutes.

“Thanks, Hank,” he says leaving the office.  

* * *

He catches up to her at the fourth.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks coming down the stairs tucking her gun away. 

“You didn't go home last night. Your family’s worried.”

She eyes him curiously. “Uh huh. So how you’d find me here?”

“Ran into Hank and he mentioned that you stopped by this morning looking for a place. Wasn't hard to figure out which ones would catch your eye.”

“Oh, really?”  

“You’re not as hard to figure out as you think you are, Charlotte.”

She chooses to ignore that remark and continues to look around. She likes this little two-story more than all the others she’s looked at so far. The tax is a bit higher than she wanted to pay, but she’s horded every bit of her pay since the war started and has a sizable nest egg.

“Well, Mr. Younotsohardtofigureout, what do you think about this place?”

He looks around the inside from where he stands, having already circled around the outside twice. “Needs a bit of work.”

She dismisses his concern a smile, “Not to worry, Bass. Plenty of young men in the area who’ll trip all over themselves to do some handy work for the town’s newest divorcee.”  

His jaw starts ticking when she turns her back to him. “I guess I’ll leave you to it then.” 

“I’ll see you tonight at the bar, right?” She asks suddenly spinning to face him.

“Yeah, I guess, why?” he asks distractedly wanting to get out of here before he does something he can’t be held responsible for.

She shrugs almost shyly. “Part of our working relationship has always been drinks at the bar on Saturday night.”

He smiles. “I’ll see you tonight.”

* * *

 

He actually sees her before that, as she pays the taxes on the house and then chats with a few men at the General Store, showing off her fucking dimple as she leads them to her new place, bags of dry goods and supplies for repairs filling their arms as she smiles and flirts.

Not his business, he repeats to himself.

* * *

 

They've been at the bar a few hours when Miles points out that there have been no women hanging on him half the night like there usually is. He looks around the bar and sees the regulars, a few he’s hooked up with and wouldn't mind doing so again, but they won’t even look in his direction.

It’s almost like he has the plague.

Or is married.

He narrows his eyes at Charlie who smiles at him when she notices, suddenly wrapped up in her conversation with Miles about the new house. He decides to let it go for the night as they’re relaxed and comfortable and Miles is happy with the two of them for a change and before long he’s being roped into helping out at her house the next day.

* * *

 

He arrives at Gene’s the next morning to find the wagon hitched and a plethora of odds and ends loaded in it. Miles and Gene have been scouring the basement, attic and barn for extras that Charlie can use to fill the house.

The woman in question walks out the door rolling her eyes, Rachel on her heels.

“Oh look Mom, there’s Bass. See we’ll have plenty of help now, so you stay here and help Grandpa.”

 “Are you sure?” Rachel asks one last time her brow furrowed.

“It’ll be fine, Mom, promise.”

Miles appears from around the corner of the house carrying a tool box that he sets in wagon. “It’s not like she’s going to college half way across the country Rachel. She’s moving to her own place a mile away.”

Rachel frowns at all of them before turning on her heel letting the screen door slam shut behind her.

Miles climbs up on the bench seat as Charlie sprawls out in back. “Let’s go, Monroe” she calls out, one eyebrow hiked as he stands there.

Shaking his head, he climbs up beside Miles who’s muttering under his breath about crazy women.

* * *

 

When they arrive at her house there are several of the young men from town waiting on them.

“Told you the whole divorcee thing was gonna work out well,” She winks in Monroe’s direction looking like a cat that just had a bowl of fresh cream.

Miles snorts at the expression on Bass’ face as the boys all crowd around the back of the wagon and Charlie lays on the charm.

She has them carrying and toting in no time.

As the day wears on she makes lemonade and brings it outside where she’s sure to complement those that have removed their shirts, licking her lips like they’re the tastiest things she’s ever seen.

Miles has been laughing non-stop at her performance while Bass has been simmering in his own juices. Charlie keeps an eye on him from where she stands, thinking that for being a former President slash Dictator he can be pretty dense at times. What the fuck does she need a boy for when she already has a man?

She sends the boys home and offers to fix dinner for Miles and Bass, tempting them with venison steaks and fresh vegetables. As they’re cleaning up at the well, Charlie brings them each a towel, absently handing Miles his as she makes sure that Bass knows that she approves of what she sees.

He frowns at her which doesn't seem to deter her in the slightest as she grabs his jean covered ass when Miles isn't looking. He jumps, causing her to grin as she follows Miles into the house to finish up dinner.

* * *

 

Afterwards, they walk through the house to take inventory of what still needs repaired.

Miles offers to come around a few evenings during the week if Rachel can spare him, causing Bass to sputter and whirl on Charlie.

“You’re sleeping here?”

“I’m sleeping here, and you’re sleeping at your house. That’s what divorced people do, Bass.” She explains like she talking to a five-year old as Miles chortles in the background causing Bass to turn on him.

“I’d think you’d be a little more concerned, Miles. We haven’t even got the doors fixed yet. Anybody could get in!”

“I’m not worried about anybody getting in. You worried about anybody getting in?” Miles asks Charlie.

“Nope.” She replies smugly, waving goodbye as she wanders back in the house, leaving the broken door wide open.

* * *

 

Charlie is startled awake early the next morning from the noise of a hammer directly below her.

“What the fuck, Monroe?” she asks as she comes down the stairs in nothing but a tank top, tiny pair of panties and matching pair of handguns.

He frowns as he takes in her appearance. “And what if I was someone you didn't want around, Charlotte?”

“That’s what the guns for, Sebastian” she calls over her shoulder heading to the kitchen to light the stove as he watches her barely covered ass. “Besides, I doubt that a stranger would be here to fix my door,” she yells from where she is in the kitchen.

He’s still working when she puts a pot on to boil and leans against the door frame leading into the kitchen.

“Want some breakfast?”

“Wouldn't turn it away,” he grunts picking up the door to re-hang it.

She disappears back into the kitchen to fix eggs and skillet toast while slicing up some fresh fruit. She sets it all on the table and heads back upstairs making sure his eyes are following her the entire way. “Be right back. Breakfast is on the table.”

She returns in cut off shorts and another tank top that she's clearly not wearing a bra with, hair thrown on top of her head. She takes the seat next to him.  “Any new orders come through yet?”

“No. Thought I’d check in today but I imagine it’ll be a while yet.”

“Good. Give me a chance to get this place taken care of.”

They make small talk about her plans for the day and she walks him out when he’s ready to head home. Grabbing his arm, she stretches up to peck him on the cheek. “Thanks for taking care of the door, Bass. I appreciate it.”

Not trusting himself to speak, he simply nods.

* * *

 

On Friday night she heads to town, sick of her own company and nabs their usual booth while ordering a bottle from the waitress.

She hasn't been there long when Bass and Conner show up taking seats at the bar.

Just like last Saturday night, the women stay away from Bass but are more than happy to talk to Conner. Charlie watches in amusement as Bass’ frown grows the more he tries to figure out what the problem is.

That is until some new blonde trollop comes strolling up next to him, practically sitting in his lap. She watches as Bass eats it up. The longer she watches the angrier she gets until finally Ms. Blonde needs to break the seal.

“Amateurs,” Charlie mutters as she darts through the crowd and follows the woman to the outhouses.

Strolling back in less than five minutes later, she slides back into her booth to find Connor waiting on her. He silently pours her a drink and holds his own up for a toast.

“Nicely done,” he grins at her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” she replies bringing the glass to her mouth to cover her smirk.

His eyes twinkle as he jerks his head towards his dad. “Poor man just can’t figure out what’s got all the ladies scared off. I've even tried fixing him up and they nearly run away screaming. Finally found a Chatty Cathy last night.”

Charlie remains quiet, a small smile dancing around her mouth as she listens.

“Turns out that my dad went and got himself married and evidently the quickie divorce is debatable.”

“No!” Charlie gasps holding a hand up to her chest.

Connors booming laughter has Bass turning to look at them, as Ms. Blonde stumbles in the door, pasty white, looking for the friends she came with, giving Bass a wide berth.

“Yeah, evidently someone close to the bride has warned all the locals that he’s hand off and anyone caught sampling the merchandise probably won’t like the consequences.” He continues, throwing an arm over the back of the booth.

“Do tell!” Charlie exclaims pouring them each another glass as Bass slides off his stool to join them.

He slips in beside her with a frown, accepting the drink she offers.

“What’s the matter, Monroe? Run all the girls off with that animal magnetism of yours?” she asks in a playful tone, giving her best impersonation of a Kitten. 

He narrows his eyes at her. “What did you do?”

"Now Bass," she says patting his arm, "there’s no need to let your paranoia get the best of you. Connor here was just telling me about your female woes. Such a dry streak must really suck.”

She shoos him out of her way and slides out of the booth, brushing imaginary dust off her hands.

“I’m headed home since my work here is done. Stop by any time, Junior. We can catch up.” She winks at Connor, before patting Bass on the cheek with a faux pout.

Connor shakes his head in laughter as they watch her leave. “Dad, you might as well give it up and go home, too. Tonight is not your night.”


	2. All my Ex's live in Texas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have half a chapter. :)

It’s a quiet month in the war against the patriots and Bass spends the time watching from afar as Charlie and her harem of men get most of the repairs to her home complete. The day he stops by, he finds them digging her goddamned flower beds for her.

He listens as she tells them the story of how her grandfather had given her these beautiful, precious bulbs that were her grandmothers, who she’s named after of course, and now that she’s a helpless, divorced female she just can’t say enough about all these brawny, young men that have been so sweet to help, causing him to nearly choke on his lemonade. 

The Charlotte Matheson he knows is one step away from being a fucking Warlord on the battlefield, barely a hair out-of-place when she takes a man’s head, and can’t believe this shit actually works. The look he gives tells her so.

“This is your world, Bass. I’m just trying to live in it,” she smiles taking his glass to refill along with several others.

* * *

 

She invites him and Miles and Connor over for dinner and poker on Wednesday nights while Rachel and Gene are at church and Saturday nights finds them all at the bar. 

Bass is still having his dry streak, four weeks in now, and is pretty much beyond frustrated.  Miles knows that something is up but is having so much fun ribbing a pissy Bass that he doesn't want to know.

* * *

 

It’s a busy Saturday night at the bar and she and Connor are in the middle of a game of pool when Bass comes to drag Connor home.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Charlie stomps over to get in his face. “It’s not even ten o’clock and we’re in the middle of a game here. Does it look like he wants to go home?” She asks demanding an answer from him.

“It doesn't matter what he wants.” He snaps at her.  “We’re going home now, Connor.” Bass barks turning on his heel expecting Connor to follow. 

“Geez, what crawled up your ass?” Connor asks putting his stick away.

Connors getting ready to walk past Charlie when she flings her hand out against his chest, stopping his forward progress.

“Un uh. Get your ass back here Monroe.” She calls after his retreating back.

He turns to find her blocking Connors path. “What do you want, Charlotte?”

“I want visitation.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said I want visitation with my son.”

“Your son?” he chuckles.

“That’s right.” Charlie replies crossing her arms as she leans back on her left heel hitching her hip out. “The day I became Mrs. Monroe, he became my son.” She says pointing her thumb back at Connor, who’s had no choice but to put on his Cartel face to keep from laughing at his father, “The day I became the ex-Mrs. Monroe is the day I became entitled to visitation.”

They’re nearly chest to chest now, and are clearly causing a scene if the lack of background noise is any indication, as Bass stares her down with his best General Monroe face.

He’s pretty sure she doesn't even blink.

He looks towards Miles, who is going to be of no help if the way he’s gasping for air is any indication and then towards Connor, who has the audacity to lean his chin on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Dad, I wanna spend the weekend with Mom. Why are you being so mean?” He blinks with his best puppy dog eyes.

“Unfuckingbeliveable.” Bass spits out. “Fine, but no sleepover’s and you have him home by midnight.”

Charlie picks at a cuticle for a moment considering his offer. “Agreed. But you need to have him at my house by nine a.m. on Sundays for pancakes. They’re his favorite,” she purrs patting Connors cheek, “and nothing’s too good for our boy.”

Bass’ response is muffled by a crashing noise as the bartender yells at Miles asking if he’s okay from where he’s lying on the floor next to a toppled bar stool. Spinning on his heel, he’s about to stalk out of the bar when Charlie calls his name.

“What do you want now?” Bass growls turning back towards her.

She pulls a small bottle out of her front pocket. “Oh, this isn't for me. It’s my gift to you.” She smiles stepping close enough to press herself up against him. “I thought a little lube might help out during your dry spell. That hand is awfully calloused,” she whispers next to his ear.

He jerks away from her, his mouth opening and closing in outrage and once again turns away from her stalking towards the bar doors. The entire place, other than Miles, is dead silent watching him. There’s a sudden intake of air as he spins around and marches back towards her, yanking the bottle out of her hands before finally exiting the building.

* * *

There are candles burning in the living room and Bass has the door open before they even hit the first porch step. Charlie eyes him appreciatively as he stands bare-chested in a pair of soft cotton sleep pants that have seen better days but look comfortable as hell, slung low on his hips.

Connor bends to kiss her cheek, “Night, Mom.”

“I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast, Sweetie.”

“Can’t wait!” he replies as they make their way up the steps to a waiting Bass who is not amused.

“Night, Dad!”

Charlie waits till he’s gone down the hall to his room before turning to Bass. “See? Home all safe and sound.”

“You realize your being ridiculous, don’t you?” he asks her.

She moves closer, not quite touching him. “You look flushed, Bass. Is everything, okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Charlie.”

“Mmmhmm,” she replies sniffing the air as she runs a finger along the damp edge of his pants, before bringing it to her mouth.

He watches her eyes flutter shut as her mouth envelopes the digit, her tongue swirling around it as she slowly withdraws it from her mouth.

“I see that it is. You know, Bass, in my world, Connor can have a sibling. Too bad that’s not an option in yours.”

Licking her finger once again, she reaches out to circle an already tightened nipple, before blowing on it. She’s standing close enough that she feels his cock jump against her belly.

“Sweet dreams.” She whispers slipping away down the stairs.

* * *

 

They come walking through the door without knocking at nine the next morning.

“Mom!” Connor calls out as he shuts the front door.

Charlie appears at the top of the stairs with nothing but a man’s shirt on. “You’re here!” she claps in pleasure. “The pancakes are on the back of the stove and the table’s all set so help yourselves. I’ll get dressed and be right down.”

Connor eyes his Dad who’s still looking up the stairs. “Mom’s looking pretty hot today, isn’t she?”

Turning towards the kitchen, Bass shakes off her words from last night, smacking Connor on the back of his head as he passes him, “Don’t talk about your Mother that way.”

* * *

 

Wednesday night after dinner they check in at the local headquarters on the way home from Charlie’s and discover orders waiting. But they’re not for them. They’re for Charlie.

Miles and Bass play Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who’s going back out to tell her.

“Why don’t we make him tell her,” Bass whines pointing at Connor. “He’s her favorite.”

“Not a chance.” Connor says backing away. “I know she says she likes the chance to get away from all of us, but her behavior says otherwise and I am not touching that with a ten foot pole.”

At the look Bass gives him he holds up his hands in surrender, “Not touching  _ever again_ and I’m just gonna go now,” he says stumbling out the door.

“It must really suck having to deal with the ex.” Miles says shaking his head.  “Having to deal with visitation issues, delivering bad news,” he continues shoving the paperwork against Bass’ chest giving him no choice but to grab at them before they drop.

“I hate you,” Bass replies tidying up the paperwork up as he glares at his best friend.

* * *

 

The house is dark when he lets himself in. He’s never been upstairs before but knows that her room is at the front of the house so quietly takes the stairs, stopping with a pained wince when one of them creaks loudly under his boot. Continuing on, he takes a moment to orientate himself at the top of the stairs and creeps along to her bedroom. The closed-door squeaks loudly as he opens it, standing off to the side. “It’s just me, Charlie,” he says softly knowing that she’s probably been awake since his boot hit the creaky step.

He hears a huff and safety’s being clicked on, before he takes a chance walking in the dark room.

“What are you doing here, Bass, besides trying to get yourself killed?”

“Orders came through.”

She reaches out her hand and he hands them over. “Light the lamp for me?”

He sees the outline of it on the table next to her and in a few strides is putting flint to steel in order to strike a flame. When he puts the glass lamp over lit wick he finally gets a good look at her.  She’s sitting up in bed surrounded by a various assortment of guns, hair tousled, the important parts of her covered by a sheet that’s hanging on by a single hand clutched to her breast as she attempts to flip through the paperwork.

She begins to absent-mindedly hand him the guns that are surrounding her, the sheet slipping down to her shapely hips as she continues to read, her lush breasts on display.

“Charlie.” He groans placing the shotgun in the closet.

“Huh. What?” she asks distractedly looking up from the papers in her hand, the other hand buried in her hair as she reads through them.

He looks pointedly at her, causing her to look down realizing that she’s let the sheet go.

She chuckles pushing the hair out of her face as she begins to fold the papers back up. She’ll burn them in the morning. “Damn, Bass,” she smiles her eyes dropping to his jean covered crotch, “if these little ol’ things are getting you off, you really are hard up.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that,” he says gruffly.

“Do what?” she asks cocking her head, her long tresses spilling over her shoulder teasing him as it gives fleeting glimpses of a pink-tinted nipple.

“Put yourself down like that. You’re perfect.”

She smiles widely at him, giving him a glimpse of the dimple that she so stingily saves for her harem.

She reaches out, turning the wick down in the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Tossing the sheet aside, she gets out of bed taking the few steps to place herself in front of him.

“Thank you for thinking so,” she says reaching out swipe her hand over the hard ridge in his pants.  He catches her hand in his, bringing it to his mouth where he kisses her wrist, running his tongue over the smooth skin. He watches as she dips her other hand between her legs, can only imagine what her fingers are doing, when she lifts them to his lips.

“These might taste better,” she says running sticky wet fingers over his lips.

He takes a deep breathe in through his nose, committing the smell to memory as she slips a finger into his mouth letting him suck it clean before exchanging it for another. He watches as she bites her lip, her breasts brushing against his jacket covered chest with every inhale.  She pulls away from him when his mouth finally relinquishes the last finger.

“Come to bed with me, Bass. I’ll be gone at least a few weeks. Don’t you want a break in that dry spell?” she asks crawling up on the bed.

“That’s probably not a good idea, Charlie,” he manages to choke out as she position’s herself up against the headboard, legs splayed open in invitation as she runs her fingers through her folds that are so wet he can hear it from here, her flavor still lingering in his mouth.

“That’s too bad.” She hums slipping a finger inside herself, “because you’ll be getting me off one way or another tonight.”

He watches as her head tilts back and a hand comes up to pluck at her now fully exposed nipples, her other hand continuing to work in the valley between her legs.

Pulling the door with him, he backs out of the room. Pressed up against the wall behind him, bathed in shadows, he quickly unfastens his pants biting back a moan as his cock and balls escape their confining restraints.

Taking himself in hand he works his cock to the sounds of her breathy moans and sighs as she continues to get herself off. He’s holding back, willing her to come with his mind, when she finally does his name tripping off her lips and bouncing off the walls,

He bites his lip bloody in an effort to keep silent as he comes harder than he thinks he’s ever come before, his own head thrown back against the wall as he tries to get his breathing under control. When he thinks he can finally walk again, he tucks and zips, pushing off the wall. Just as he’s about to put his first foot on the stairs he hears her voice as it carries out to him.

“Good night, Bass. I’ll miss you.”   


	3. Welcome to my world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Bass pulls his head out of his ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so over this chapter(which is somewhere around the fourth attempt). I tried to keep it lighthearted and faithful to the the first two chapters, but evidently Bass being made to pull his head out of his ass has to get a bit twisty. Enjoy!

The first week Charlie’s gone its business as usual at home, just a bit quieter.  

* * *

 

The second week, Miles and Bass go on a quick recon mission and are back before Connor can even appreciate having the house to himself. 

* * *

 

That same weekend Bass finds himself at Charlie’s, watering those damn bulbs that she carried on about. Their green tips are just now peeking above the soil that he watched her plant them in, listening as she explained how and why you had to plant them just so, with battle roughened hands that he knows are as gentle as they are deadly.

Two weeks with no sign of the possibly, former, Mrs. Monroe and the ladies in town are getting a bit bold. Bass eats up the attention as Miles and Connor exchange a look and keep their mouths shut. He still goes home alone.

* * *

By week three, luck is tipping back in Bass’ favor as he leaves the bar with a long-legged brunette. Connor moves to stop him but Miles grabs his arm, silently shaking his head. He knows the idiot has to either sink or swim on his own.

Connor’s surprised when he arrives home an hour later to find his dad sitting on the couch, a glass of something amber in his hand, as he leans his head back gazing at the ceiling.

“Everything, okay? Didn't expect to see you till morning.” 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Bass replies looking over at his son. “Turns out she wasn't my type after all.”

Connor watches as Bass throws back what’s in his glass before gently setting it on the table in front of him. “I didn't realize anybody needed to have a type to fuck these days, especially in our line of work. Take it where we can get it, right?”

He watches as Bass runs a finger along his lips, seemingly lost in thought. “Maybe,” he finally says, standing. “I’m going to head over to Charlie’s in the morning and check in on things.”

“Want some company?”

“Nah, but thanks.” He answers ruffling Connors hair as he walks by.

* * *

 

This time not only does he water her flowers, he lets himself in. Wandering around the house he picks up and puts away, knowing that she left in a hurry the morning after their mutual wank fest with just a brief stop by her mother’s to say goodbye. More for Miles and her grandfather than Rachel, but both women were making an effort for Miles and Gene.

He takes the stairs, putting his weight on each one, and by the time he’s reached the top knows that there are two loose steps that creak to high heaven. Not a bad early warning system. What he doesn't realize until he’s standing in her room is that there’s a bell hanging from the ceiling above the window. He guarantees when he goes back downstairs to look that there will be a thin wire attached to the door leading to that bell.  She knew someone was in the house the second he opened the damn door.

Her bedroom is a disaster, the bed unmade, clothes tossed around haphazardly. Just like Miles. He swears the two of them couldn't be any more related if they tried.

He strips the bed and gathers the discarded clothing. He’ll drop them off with the woman who does his and Connors laundry and pay her double for a day’s turnaround since they have no idea when to expect her. Three weeks is nothing in the grand scheme of things but he knows that Miles is getting antsy. Even Connor has been getting twitchy when her name comes up.  

* * *

 

She’s been gone four weeks when the blonde from several months ago comes strolling in.  Bass watches her looking over the bar gathering her courage to approach him.

“Well hey there, I remember you,’ He says with a smile placing a hand on her waist as she slides on the bar stool next to him.

She still looks a little leery, looking over his shoulder at the rest of the bar.  “I hear your wife’s been gone for a while.”

“Ex-wife,” Bass corrects her with a smile.

“Maybe someone should tell her that.”

“What do you mean?” Bass asks confused by her tone.

“You’re kidding me, right?” the woman asks with a raised brow.

“No, can’t say that I am.” 

“She’s warned every woman in this bar, probably in this entire town away from you.” She shudders prettily. “The things she threatened to do if we so much as even looked you were truly frightening. If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re much better off without that kind of woman in your life.”

Bass’ head is spinning from this woman’s revelation as all the pieces from the second they left Blanchard’s camp fall into place.

“I’m sorry, what kind of woman is that?’ he asks.

“Well, she’s clearly unstable since she hasn't accepted your divorce, and she’s a very violent woman if the threats she made are any indication.”

Bass can well imagine the kind of threats Charlie would make if someone tried taking something that belong to her. “She’s a member of the Specialized Division of the Texas Army. It’s what she does,” he says distractedly, looking for his son.

The woman looks away with a huff, clearly annoyed with this line of conversation.

“You’ll have to excuse me. I see my son and I really need to speak to him.” He says in her general direction already walking away.

Bass meets Connor and Miles halfway to the door, wrapping a hand around the back of Connors neck. “Let’s step outside and talk, shall we?” he says low enough so only the two of them can hear, steering Connor back out the door, Miles following in their wake.

“How long have you known?” Bass demands as he corners his son outside the bar.  

“How long have I known what?” Connor asks eyeing the wild gleam that’s suddenly appeared in his father’s eye.

“Don’t play stupid with me,” Bass hisses as Miles grabs his arm.

“He figured out that Charlie was scaring all the women off in the first week, Bass. She filled both us in on the rest the night of your little visitation showdown.”

“All the rest of what?” Bass growls.

“Like the fact that there was no divorce, Asshole. What were you thinking playing with her feelings like?” Miles growls right back getting in Bass’ face, his finger shoved in the shorter man's chest.

“All those guys she had following her around town and out at the house? They were just for show.” Connor chimes in. “Between that and warning all the women off, she had you twisting in the wind, Pops,” he smirks at his father.

Miles grins smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.  “I for one enjoyed every second of it.”

“Yeah, you would.” Bass replies snidely.

Miles crowds up to him once again. “You need to figure your shit out before she gets home, because I will not hesitate to beat your ass if this keeps up. You're married to my niece, so fucking act like it." He says with a final shove, storming off towards home. 

* * *

 

“So, have you become Charlie’s therapist or what?” Bass asks his son on their walk home after Miles’ abrupt departure.

“Hardly,” Connor chuckles. “We just talk.”

“Has she ever mentioned wanting kids?”

“Yeah, a few times, why?”

“Just something she said before she left.”

 “Oh, yeah?”

“She said that in her world you could have a sibling.”

“And in yours, I can’t.”

“Something like that.”

Connor stops on the sidewalk, turning towards his dad. “Can I say something without you trying to kill me?”

“It’s never stopped you before,”  Bass answers with a shrug.

“You gave me a second chance. You even gave Miles a second chance. Why can’t you give yourself a second chance?”

“Men like me don’t get second chances, Connor.”

“Really? I don’t believe that. You weren’t in that car with your family. You’re not in the ground with Shelly and her baby or a pile of ash in Philly. You’re not even in an unmarked grave in the ass crack of Texas. How many more second chances are you going to get, Dad?”

* * *

 

It’s been five weeks and Miles is at headquarters every day looking for news on Charlie. She’s never been gone this long before and he’s worried sick. 

Connor has his hands full with Bass, who thanks to his pep talk has a new lease on life in between the two trips he makes to headquarters every day harassing them for information on his wife.

* * *

 

She rides into town, a lot worse for wear, dropping her horse off at the stables before checking in at the small office in town, dropping off correspondence from Blanchard’s camp.

She stays long enough to wash the dirt off her face and hands and gets more than a few looks from the Rangers on duty who wisely keep their mouths shut as she watches them watch her.

She dresses differently when she’s on the road by herself and her long, dark duster, along with the dark cowboy hat, goes a long ways in hiding her identity.

She’s able to go largely unnoticed as she makes her way through the crowded bar to their usual booth only to find a familiar looking blond and her buxom, brunette friend.

“Get out.” She tells them without preamble throwing her bag down on the floor in front of her feet. She watches the blonde glance over at her friend who evidently gives her the courage to stand her ground.

She tosses her hair, raising her shoulder at the same time. “I don’t think so. Bass and his son invited us to sit here.”  

Charlie slowly nods as she removes her hat, the bruising on the left half of her face barely noticeable now, adding it to the pile at her feet. “Didn’t I tell you what would happen if I caught you fucking my husband?” She asks the blonde, flipping her coat away from her thigh exposing her K Bar.  

“You’re Connors?” she asks the brunette, turning her head to look at her.

“Yes, ma’am.”  She answers causing Charlie to roll her eyes.

Why don’t you run along and tell Connor that Mommy’s home and she’s not happy.”

The woman shoots out of booth, leaving her friend to Charlie’s mercy without a second thought.

“You won’t get away with this.” The blonde says confidently.

“Really, what makes you think that?” Charlie asks wrapping her fingers around the hilt of her knife just before feeling a finger tap on her shoulder.

She inhales deeply, slowly turning around to find Bass standing right behind her.

“I just watched every male in this bar check you out and you’re over here harassing some stupid blonde about fucking me?”

“Hey!” the blonde in question protests.

“Get lost!” Bass and Charlie echo each other not even bothering to look her way.

“What, are you mad because I marked my territory and you didn't? She sneers.

“You’re not my territory to mark, Charlie.”

 “Oh, that’s right,” She responds with a tilt of her head, “I’m not good enough to be your wife.” She shakes her head angrily. “After the month I’ve had, I don’t need your shit. I’m going home.” She hasn't even taken a step forward when he grabs her arm pulling her up against him.

“Is that what you think? That you’re not good enough for me?” He asks his eyes boring into hers.

“You've made it very clear you’d rather have anyone other than your own wife, Bass.”

She pulls away from him, bolting out the door.

* * *

 

Charlie knows that he’s following her home, but ignores him, stumbling into a dark house that smells suspiciously clean after sitting empty for over a month.

She throws her shit down in a pile on the floor, yanking off her duster before turning to confront him as he slams the door shut behind him. Instead, she finds herself shoved up against a wall, the breath nearly knocked out of her as he takes advantage of her parted lips. She bites down on his tongue drawing blood, pushing him away.

As she lunges for the stairs he nabs a foot, yanking her off her feet. She bangs an elbow when she lands on all fours, her breath escaping in a whoosh as he throws himself on her before she can escape.

“I’m sorry, Charlie,” he breathes into her neck where she smells of sweat, dirt, horse and days old blood, fingers clinging briefly to her waist, before moving on.

“I am so sorry. It was never my intention to make you feel as though you weren’t good enough for me. I know it’s not much of an excuse but I’m scared.  Everyone that I love leaves me.”  He’s been unbuttoning her shirt as he talks, spreading it apart, cupping her breasts gently, before going to work on her pants, pushing them far enough down so that she’s bare to his touch. 

Against her will, Charlie is unable to swallow a moan as his hand strokes the bare skin of her ass circling around to barely brush at her core.

His hands grasp her thighs as he kisses the base of her spine, his fingers slipping between her already slick folds, bumping up against her clit before leaning forward, nudging her jaw to nip at her throat.

Quickly unfastening his pants, he pushes them down just enough to release himself. Rubbing his cock up and down her slit, he makes sure he’s covered in her thick, slick wetness before plunging into her without warning, causing Charlie to cry out.

She scrambles for purchase on the wooden stairs, her pants wrapped around her legs, restricting her movements as she braces her palms on the edge of the stair in front of her.

He’s panting against her neck, one hand grasping at a hip the other a breast, when he suddenly stops.

“What? What’s wrong?” Charlie rasps out. 

He reaches out to turn her head towards him and she hears him swallow thickly. “This, this is wrong.” 

“Stop it and listen to me,” he demands tightening his hold on her when he hears the tiny sob escape from her mouth. “It’s our first time. I want to see you,” He whispers against her cheek. “I want to feel you. Is that okay?”

She leans her head against his for a moment before nodding her agreement.

He stands, dragging his pants up, before helping her to do the same. He follows her up the stairs to her room, which even in the dark she knows is cleaner than she left it. 

“I hope you don’t mind. I stopped by and picked up. Had your laundry done.” 

“It’s fine, but I’m filthy. I’m just going to get them dirty.” 

He squeezes her arms, “We’ll just have to make sure we get you clean tomorrow.” 

She hums as he steps away, slipping his jacket off.  

Charlie sinks down on the edge of her bed toeing her boots off, before peeling her socks off throwing them in a corner. Bass sighs watching her. 

“What? It’s my bedroom.” she says shimmying out of her jeans and panties adding them to the pile. 

“If you’re going to use your floor as a laundry hamper then you don’t get to bitch when someone calls you Mini-Miles,” he lectures pulling his shirt off presenting her with a very naked version of himself that takes her breath away. 

She reaches up to pull his mouth down to hers. He runs his hands up and down her sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. She breaks the kiss turning her head to the side. “Get on the bed,” she instructs him, watching as he climbs on, positioning himself in the middle of it. 

She follows, settling between his spread legs, reaching out to gently grasp his already rigid cock, running her thumb along its length. Leaning forward, she engulfs him in her mouth swirling her tongue around the tip causing him to buck his hips off the bed, his fingers tangling in her hair. She can taste herself on him, their flavors mingling in her mouth as his scent invades her senses. 

This time it’s him moaning as she slides her mouth and hand up and down his length like an expert, before suddenly pulling off leaving him feeling bereft as she crawls towards him, hitching a knee on either side of his hips.

Grabbing his dick he holds it steady, guiding her home. 

Her hands smooth and touch occasionally snagging on the stray scar as she maps his body, all the while riding him at a deliberately slow pace.

“You’re killing me, Charlie,” he groans filling his hands with her ass, squeezing and kneading.

“Poor baby,” she breathes out, picking up her pace. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he groans as her pussy slides up and down his cock faster and faster.

 Leaning forward she grabs hold of her old iron headboard, placing her tits right in front of his mouth.

“If that’s an invitation I accept,” he utters honing in on a pink-tipped jewel as his hands help her to make the most of his pubic bone on every downward thrust. 

He feels her whole body tense and shake as her pussy clamps down on his dick to that sweet spot between pleasure and pain as she explodes in his arms. 

Rolling her over to her stomach, he mounts her from behind. She’s holding onto the headboard once again as his hips snap against hers in a timeless rhythm. He hears her breathing quicken and watches as she darts a hand between her legs.

“Harder, Bass!” she begs and he complies, but this time when she goes tumbling over the edge she drags him with her.

* * *

 

When she wakes the next morning, she’s alone in bed with nothing but a sheet and a set of rings on her finger. 

As she sits up wondering just what in the hell happened last night, she looks around her room and comes to the realization that he's moved in with her. “Oh, no he didn't!” she grumbles tossing aside the sheet, grabbing a shirt and panties off the floor, stomping down the stairs as she bellows his name, “William Sebastian Monroe, just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, at the moment, I’m going through these reports that Miles brought over this morning.” He replies from his seat on the couch, Miles beside him and Connor in a nearby chair.

Connor raises a brow at her appearance, but she raises a hand to silence him.

 She circles the couch, coming to a stop in front of her soon to be dead husband.

Miles looks up, his eyes slightly bugging at her appearance before shaking his head with a heavy sigh.

“Is there something, you forgot to pass along, Lieutenant?” Bass asks casually flipping over to the next page of the report.

“Oh, by the way, Honey, I’m on medical and administrative leave for the next five weeks.”

“And you didn't that was important enough to share, Sweetie?”

“And when exactly was I supposed to tell you, Darling? When you were saving Bimbo Barbie from my blade or fucking my brains out on the stairs.” 

“Oh, whoa, whoa!” Miles shouts jumping up from his seat on the couch. “That is way too much information for this early in the morning!” 

“Whisky’s in the same cupboard as the glasses, Miles.” Charlie tells him never taking her eyes from Bass' smirking face. 

“What is so goddamned funny, Monroe.” She asks getting more and more infuriated by the second. 

He shakes his head, leaning back on the couch in nothing but a pair of jeans and rakes her with his eyes, his finger brushing across his lips. 

“I was just thinking about how much time we’re going to have to practice giving Connor a sibling.” He answers his eyes lazy with lust. 

Miles, who had just stepped foot back into the living room, groans loudly. 

Charlie chokes and sputters, “But I thought…you said…you’re an asshole, Monroe.” She finally spits out, stalking back up the stairs. 

“It’s your world, Charlotte! I’m just trying to live in it!” Bass yells after her. 

Their bedroom door slams in reply. 

Waiting until Miles ventures back to the couch making himself comfortable beside Bass once again, Connor stretches his legs out propping his feet on table in front of him, “Mom’s looking exceptionally hot this morning, don’t you think?”

~fin~

 

 


End file.
